The Golden Leaf
by Dan Sickles
Summary: Left at home while the Fellowship faces danger, Arwen dreams of making a difference. A mysterious gift comes to her in her sleep, offering her the chance for danger and romance. But will it prove a blessing or a curse? Now a continuing story!
1. Arwen's Dream

THE GOLDEN LEAF

_Arwen dreams of making a difference. But is it only a dream? This is just a fluffy one-shot. Please comment nicely!_

Arwen gazed out the window of her father's house in Rivendell, watching the rain pour down in sheets. "Heavy is my heart, knowing how the Fellowship must be suffering in this weather," she murmured. Tears fell from her shimmering blue eyes. They were innocent tears, as pure as the rain.

"Men can endure much when failure is not an option," answered her father. Elrond spared not even a glance at the falling rain before returning his gaze to the ancient scrolls.

"There must be something we can do!" Refusing to be quelled by the wet weather, Arwen donned a cloak and boots and set off on her own without her father's knowledge. Her path led deep into the ancient wood. Hoping to gather potent herbs that would help her to aid the Fellowship, Arwen soon strayed from the familiar path. And became lost.

"This discomfort is small compared to what the Fellowship endures," the innocent elf-maiden murmured. Slender branches whipped her muddy face. Cold drops of rain ran down her back. Her sodden boots squelched mud, seeming to grow heavier with every step.

The daughter or Elrond refused to be defeated by mere hardship. Yet she was near to collapsing when a golden light appeared in the forest. Gradually a form of surpassing beauty took shape, tall and fair with a radiant smile.

"Galadriel!" Arwen wept tears of relief. "Dear lady, I am lost. Can you show me the way back to my father's house?"

"Poor Arwen," soothed the Lady of Light. "You are soaking wet, and your clothes are very dirty. Your father will not be pleased. Would you like to come home with me instead?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you!" Arwen rushed forward, but then stopped, a flush of shame spreading across her dirty face. "What of the others, Lady Galadriel? What can we do to protect the Fellowship from the wet and cold?"

"Pluck a leaf from the bush behind you," Galadriel instructed the daughter of Elrond. "As long as you sleep with the leaf beneath your pillow, those you love will be safe from harm."

"This is no common leaf!" Arwen's big blue eyes went wide with wonder, for as she lifted the leaf it turned to gold.

"Arwen? Daughter, where are you? It is time to awake and begin the day!" Elrond entered his daughter's chamber frowning, weighted down with the wisdom of centuries.

"Is it morning?" Arwen poked her head out from under the covers. Bright sunlight was shining through her window. She had been sleeping all this time, safe in her own warm bed!

"Why do you look so astonished? If you were wise, my child, you would not stay up so late worrying about the fate of the Fellowship," Elrond scolded. "Your tears and sleepless nights will not assist the noble Aragorn. If he is meant to return to you, he will."

"But we were in the woods," Arwen frowned, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes. "Galadriel and I were in the woods, father, and we were helping the Fellowship. We were making magic to keep them safe!"

"That was but a dream, daughter," Elrond said gently. "Now hurry up and dress. Your lessons await."

"Yes, father." Arwen felt great sadness wash over her as her father left the chamber, shutting the door firmly behind him. She was not a part of the Fellowship. She was not allowed to assist her beloved, or take part in great events. When she tumbled out of bed, she didn't want to make the bed, or even straighten out the sheets and pillows. But she did as she was told, forgetting her dreams and behaving like a dutiful daughter.

That was when she found the golden leaf beneath her pillow.


	2. Seeking Answers

_Chapter Two: Seeking Answers_

"_Imin, Imin-yay, Tata, Tata-yay, Enel, Enel-yay . . ."_

Even as she sounded out the names of her ancient ancestors, Arwen found her mind wandering. How could she focus on boring lessons after such a wonderful dream?

"Daughter, you must concentrate," Elrond said sternly. "You must honor your ancestors every day of your immortal life. Again, please. From the beginning!"

"_Imin, Imin-yay, Tata, Tata-yay, Enel, Enel-yay . . ."_

_I fear even immortality may prove a bore with __you__ in charge, father_. Arwen bit back a yawn when her father's back was turned, fighting the pull of sleep. She hadn't rested last night, or the night before. Each time she closed her eyes she saw Lady Galadriel placing the Golden Leaf beneath her pillow. But finding that leaf was no dream! Was it the Lady's doing? What future wonders were in store for her?

Small wonder she was too excited to fall asleep!

"Sweet and musical is the sound of young scholars learning," proclaimed a soft voice from just outside the classroom. The wise words floated into the room on a ripple of laughter.

"Lady Galadriel!" Arwen awoke from her dozy, inattentive mood at once. Her huge, sapphire-blue eyes flew wide open, her beautiful pale features lighting up with joy.

"Clearly our lessons are over for the day," Elrond grumbled, feeling a foreboding of danger as his tall, dark-haired daughter ran to greet her idol with shining blue eyes.

"Learning may take place both in and out of doors, noble Elrond," proclaimed the beautiful golden-haired lady, after hugging Arwen tightly and kissing her on both cheeks. "Remember, we elven folk are most at home in the woods."

"I dreamed of walking in the woods with you two nights ago!" Arwen cried breathlessly. "I was seeking to aid the Fellowship on their journey. But it was dark, and I got lost, and just when all hope was lost I met you! And then . . ."

"Daughter, the Lady of Light has no time for idle dreams," Elrond scolded gently.

"Dreams are only another road to truth," the lady softly said. "Tell me, Arwen Evenstar, did your dream end happily?"

"It ended when you gave me this," the girl answered proudly, swiftly pulling the shining talisman from her robes.

The two elders looked at the Golden Leaf in amazement.

"Arwen, why did you not tell me of this?" asked Elrond.

"I thought you would scold me, father. For my idle dreams."

Lady Galadriel quickly soothed the tension between them. "Arwen, your father wants you to be a wise lady. Elrond, your daughter only wishes to make you proud. Now there is danger here, for I have no memory of meeting you in this dream. Yet whoever gave you this gift has great power."

"Could it be a trap?" Arwen shivered, no longer quite so pleased and thrilled to have received her golden gift.

Galadriel gave her a hug. "Or a great opportunity. Come, there is much to do. We must have you properly prepared, for a long journey awaits."

Arwen felt her spirit soar at the thought of adventure. "In my dream you said . . . I mean, it was foretold that the Golden Leaf was intended to keep the Fellowship safe through all dangers. Are we possibly meant to join them?"

"_Possibly_ yes . . . and possibly no." The wise and radiant lady laughed at the dismay on Arwen's lovely countenance. "We go forth seeking answers, dearest, not adventures," Galadriel explained, patting Arwen's hot cheek with cool fingers that calmed her stormy spirit like a soothing spell. "But before we depart, ask your father's blessing."

"Father, forgive me. I am sorry that I have been so lazy and inattentive in my lessons. I only wish to help . . ."

"There is no need to apologize, my daughter. I should have seen the changes in you before you received your gift." Elrond embraced the tall, beautiful elf-maiden. She was his child, yet a child no longer. Sadness filled him as he gave her his blessing for the long journey.

_A/N: This was going to be a one-shot, but so many people enjoyed the first chapter I decided to continue the story. Please review if you want to see more!_


	3. Within the Cave

_Chapter Three: Within the Cave_

Lying flat in the palm of her hand, the golden leaf didn't seem all that special. It didn't flash or glitter. It didn't point the way.

"Come, let us move on," said the Lady Galadriel, bringing an end to the brief rest period. "There are many more hills to climb before nightfall."

"Many more hills to climb," Arwen echoed. Her hand closed tight around the golden leaf, even as her face took on a new look of determined firmness. "Let us continue onwards, then! The sooner we begin the journey the sooner we will reach our goal."

But what was their goal? The daughter of Elrond knew that the golden leaf had come to her in a dream. But she wanted to use it as a weapon in the war against evil. She didn't want to wait for more dreams to tell her what to do. Still less did she want to walk on and on into the western woods, when every step took her father away from the Great War raging to the south and east.

"What lies beyond that high peak over there?" The brave young traveler asked, hours later. Her golden-haired guide had allowed her only a few brief spells of rest all afternoon. This time Arwen didn't bother to gaze at her golden leaf. Instead she dropped her pack and sank down to rest on a great round boulder warmed by the setting sun.

"Beyond that peak lies Silver Lake," Galadriel replied, after taking a disciplined drink from her flask of strong spirits. "But our steps do not lead in that direction. The lake men are barbarous, and after dark these mountains are prowled by packs of ravenous wolves."

"Then should we not make camp for the night?" Arwen shuddered, stifling the chill of fear with firm resolve. Still her white hand shook as she reached for her companion's flask.

"No need," answered fair Galadriel, watching with grave concern as raven-haired Arwen drank deeply from the flask. "Tonight we will shelter safely within the mountain itself, by crawling only halfway up and making camp within the cave."

"Within the cave?" All her life Arwen had found small, dark places to be both frightening and confining. Already she imagined the walls of the cave closing in on her.

"Be not alarmed, lovely Arwen Evenstar." Galadriel's clear blue eyes seemed to probe deep into her trembling companion's troubled thoughts. "Tonight you will dream, and when you have overcome your own fears you will clearly see your own destiny."

"Yes, Galadriel." Arwen met the gaze of her wise protector, drawing strength from the firmness of Galadriel's spirit. Arwen was determined to prove her own inner worth as well.

For some reason, the last leg of the journey was harder than all the rest. As they climbed the steep slope in the growing dusk, Arwen continually found herself stumbling over rocks and slipping on loose gravel. Again and again she fell, only to scramble up once more with the helping hand of Galadriel. Never did the young maiden falter. Not once did she complain. But her limbs were weary and she ached to her very bones by the time they reached the mouth of the cave.

"Well, at long last! The golden lady pays us a visit – and with a friend too!" From deep within the cave came the sound of tapping, a stick on hard stone. As her tired eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, Arwen beheld an old crone, small and wrinkled, hobbling towards her with a cane.

"Dear sister, how good to see you after so many years!" Tall, graceful Galadriel hugged and kissed the tiny old creature, showing every sign of affection. The two of them were such an unlikely sight that Arwen had to stifle the urge to giggle, though she was aching all over and tired down to her toes.

"Snorra of the Dwarves, please welcome Arwen, daughter of Elrond, of the House of Rivendell."

"How do you do," Arwen said politely, bending to kiss the dry and wrinkled cheek of Snorra. "Is it always so dark in here?"

"Hah!" With a fierce cry, Snorra struck the stone floor of the cave with her cane. In a flash there was a roaring fire, a table piled high with food, and a sunken pool filled with steaming water. There was even a bed covered with furs.

"Gracious lady, thank you! How can we ever hope – what can we ever do . . ." Arwen tried to put her feelings into words, but could not. Instead she burst into tears.


	4. What Arwen Saw

_Chapter Four: What Arwen Saw_

"But personally, I never liked him," Snorra the Dwarf declared, eating very heartily and talking with her mouth full. "I'm glad the men of Silver Lake banished the big ugly brute. Even if he was the son of the king!"

"So now Rann Golden-hair is king," Galadriel said thoughtfully, setting down her wine goblet after only a tiny sip. "A nephew succeeding to the throne instead of a son. Such goes against the customs of the lake men. I wonder how he convinced the council of Brann's guilt?" The tall elven-lady frowned, as though seeing things beyond the walls of the cave. "Perhaps we are meant to discover the truth with the help of the Golden Leaf. In that case, all will depend on Arwen, the bearer of the leaf. Arwen? Are you ready?"

"What?" The dark-haired daughter of Elrond opened her eyes in confusion. Snorra's stew had been wonderful, and the oat cakes with honey even more delicious. Arwen had only begun falling asleep at the end of the meal because the tale of Rann and Brann seemed so long and tedious. It had nothing to do with Aragorn, or the Ring. "I mean yes! Yes, I am ready!"

"Ready for bed, poor lass." Snorra the dwarf gave a deep chuckle. "At least you've had a bath and a decent meal. Galadriel, why drag the poor child all this way? Surely your own elvish nose will soon smell out the mischief in these wild lands. If there is any, I mean."

"I don't believe so," the golden-haired lady replied seriously. "The Golden Leaf came to Arwen, and she must go where it guides her. Though I'm sure the answer will come more easily after a good night's sleep."

"I don't see why everyone thinks I'm still a baby," Arwen grumbled. She battled the urge to rub her eyes, for she was feeling winky and blinky and very sleepy. "I came all this way, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Snorra replied, her merry old eyes twinkling. "You walked for miles and miles. And now to bed you go!" She clapped her hands, and with a groan of splitting rock an inner chamber appeared within the cave. Within the chamber was a bed covered with furs. Though crudely made it appeared very comfortable.

Arwen could have argued further, but wisely decided to fall into bed. She needed rest, and it had been a long day. The closed in space of the cave didn't bother her so long as there were other people close by. For a short time she lay awake, listening to the two females in the nearby chamber, laughing and talking like old friends. But soon she slept. And in her dreams, she saw blue water and a ship. The prow of the ship was shaped like a dragon's head and painted gold.

On board the ship was a prince with golden hair. He was coming home after a long voyage, and he looked so handsome and kind and good that in her sleep Arwen cried aloud. But the prince didn't see or hear her. He was landing now, to the loud cheers of a joyous crowd. They crowded the docks, waving and smiling. But hidden behind the barrels and boxes there was a hooded figure. Someone was waiting for the golden prince. Someone was planning to do him harm . . .

"Look out! Look out!" Arwen sat up in bed. Her heart was pounding and the sweat was cold on her brow. Hours had passed, and the fire in the main chamber was nearly out. She called out for Galadriel, and for Snorra. But no one answered.

The daughter of Elrond was all alone.


	5. The Wolves Attack

_Chapter Five: The Wolves Attack_

Arwen jumped out of bed in a panic, certain that her companions were in grave danger. She didn't bother with her shoes, but only threw on her dark blue robes in haste. At the mouth of the cave she hurriedly put on the Golden Leaf as well. Wearing the sacred talisman on a chain gave her a feeling of mystical protection.

"Are you mad, girl? Get back in the cave at once!" Snorra's rough and gravel-edged voice sounded more angry than alarmed. The ancient dwarf woman emerged from the purple-black shadows, carrying a heavy load of firewood on her back.

"Where is the Lady of Light?" Arwen demanded in a shrill voice. She felt breathless and a little bit faint. "Where's Galadriel?"

Just then there was a sudden burst of noise, a blood-curdling lone wolf-howl that was quickly echoed by dozens of others. Arwen felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand right up.

"Now you've done it," snapped Snorra impatiently. "Galadriel climbed to the top of Mount Tor at midnight, meaning to summon the Dire Wolves. She wanted to win you a safe passage over these hills in the morning. But now that they've heard your voice, and smelled your blood, they'll be twice as hard to reason with. They might even attack Galadriel in the open!"

"We must go to her!" Arwen cried.

"No! Wait! Stop, you young fool!"

The two females struggled desperately in the darkness. Snorra was surprisingly strong for such a tiny, ancient creature. But Arwen was truly determined. And after a moment she broke free.

Rushing headlong up the side of the hill, Arwen was frightened only for her friend. But when she reached the summit, she beheld Galadriel standing atop a white stone in radiant glory, dressed in white and casting a circle of white light all around her.

"Where are the wolves?" Arwen gasped, her chest heaving and her lungs burning after her mad scramble up the steep hill. The raven-haired Elvish maiden collapsed on a moss-covered stone.

"They haven't arrived yet," Galadriel informed her calmly. "My intention was to handle everything peaceably while you slept. I didn't want the younger males to see you, or get your scent." Though outwardly quite composed, the golden-haired Lady of Light lifted her hand in an unmistakable gesture of command. "Come here, Arwen. Come sit by me. Here, close to the light."

"Yes, I will." Though tired and panting, Arwen was in no mood to disobey orders. She intended to get up and move as soon as she could catch her breath. Now that she understood the situation, she realized that she should have stayed in the cave as Snorra instructed. Yet even so, a part of her mind rebelled at the way decisions were simply made without her. Did Galadriel really think she needed watching over night and day like a baby?

"Arwen!" This time the Lady of Light's voice bit like steel, though she still spoke softly and calmly. "Stand up slowly. Do it now."

"Oh!" With a stifled cry of alarm, Arwen put a hand to her throat. In less than a dozen heartbeats, while she sat resting and catching her breath, the entire clearing had filled with wolves. They circled her slowly, huge and black and menacing. And it was clear that she would have to get past them to reach Galadriel.

"Don't be afraid," The golden lady coaxed, in an especially gentle voice, as if Arwen were a small child beside herself with fear. "Don't even look at them. Just breathe deeply, and walk slowly."

"I am coming," Arwen replied quietly. She was not afraid, yet as she walked forward she had to bite her soft, plush lower lip to keep from giving way to anger. Did Galadriel think she would scream in childish terror the moment she looked upon a wolf?

Only for a moment, the dark-blue eyes of the Daughter of Elrond met the gaze of the largest, fiercest, most menacing wolf of all. His eyes glowed red, and there seemed to be a silent communication between them. It was as though his very thoughts were burning their way into her brain. Yet Arwen could make no sense of the images that took hold, for they were all of human hatred and evil-doings, blood and battle and betrayal. Only at the end did she feel her cheeks burn as the wolf's glowing eyes spelled out a much simpler message. _You are mine_.

Arwen turned her gaze away, fixing it on the pool of whiteness that surrounded the Lady of Light. She raised her dark head, proud of her poise and self-control, certain that in just a moment she would be safe by her companion's side.

And then the wolves attacked.


	6. Face to Face

_Chapter Six: Face to Face_

When the great wolf sprang towards her Arwen stood motionless, like a tree rooted to the spot. Frozen with fear, or perhaps still dazed by the strange mind-link that briefly made her thoughts becomes one with the beast's, she felt paralyzed and powerless. Hypnotized and helpless, she awaited her fate in a trance.

Just then a sizzling bolt of lightning singed the air. The great wolf howled as the fiery jolt of elvish magic knocked him sideways. Yet his fangs still found a grip on Arwen's slender upper arm. Pain shot through her, and that awoke her from her trance.

"Galadriel!" Arwen fought to make her way to her grandmother's side, her mind clearing and the strength coming back to her limbs. She had no weapons, but the sight of the great staff in her guardian's hands gave her hope. Galadriel stood atop a white boulder, dealing out deadly bolts of light that sizzled in the air. If Arwen could only reach her in time, she knew she would be safe.

The wolves did not seem so terrifying once Arwen began to kick and claw and club them with all the strength she had. She went down, and she felt agonizing pain as they tore at her with their teeth, shredding her robes and lacerating her flesh. Yet she too had the power to deal out pain, as she found a heavy rock and struck out blindly. Twisting and gasping, she rolled in the dust, as full of primitive fury as any savage beast.

It seemed hours later when Arwen rose to her feet, filthy and bloody. Her clothes were in tatters, yet she felt a wild joy rise up in her. It was a fierce, animal sensation, the savage pride of a predator having triumphed over others of her kind.

Yet the fight was not over. Galadriel stood atop the white rock, fighting desperately. She still held her staff, yet there were no more bolts of fire. The wolves seemed to have increased in number. Galadriel swung wildly with her staff, knocking the beasts aside one after the other. But the pack came on and on. And as the wolves closed in her clear blue eyes met Arwen's.

"It's no use," she gasped. "Run, daughter of Elrond. _Run!__"_

Arwen didn't want to run. She wanted to fight! But there were too many wolves. And as she looked into the eyes of her all-knowing protector, she saw something that made her heart sink. Without meaning to make the awful decision, she turned and ran.

Mercifully, it seemed that none of the wolves were on her trail. Arwen ran blindly down the steep slope, not knowing which way to turn. Snorra, that was it. She had to get back to the cave. She had to get help! Yet no sooner had the tall, raven-haired daughter of Elrond made the decision than she lost her footing, loose pebbles giving way under her frantic tread. Pitching forward in the darkness, she struck her head on a rock, tumbling down the slope and into an even deeper blackness.

She came awake to cold water being sprinkled on her face. Her mouth tasted awful, like fur and blood. Her face felt swollen, and the bright light of day instantly gave her a stabbing headache.

"Snorra?"

"The witch! She means the witch!" The voices of men blurred in her head, angry curses mixed with cries of fright.

"For shame, my brave companions! Are we to be ruled forever by superstition and gossip? Do the warriors of Rann Golden-hair fear the tales of old?" The voice was young, yet firm and reassuring, like the strong arms lifting her gently from the rocky ground.

"Galadriel," Arwen croaked. Forcing her eyes open, she fought to make out the features of the man holding her in his arms. Without a doubt this was Rann Golden-hair, the young ruler Snorra had spoken of at dinner. Arwen felt that she had never seen such kind blue eyes, or such a winning smile. "You must help me," she gasped. Her head was spinning just from being lifted a few inches off the ground. "Last night my friend and I – we were attacked. By wolves. Up there!"

As the trembling finger of the elf-maiden pointed to the top of Mount Tor, the murmurs of the men grew louder and angrier, yet at the same time more fearful. "Look at her ears! She's a witch!" they cried. "Look at her wounds – wolf-bitten is wolf-cursed!"

"We are hunters of wolves," Rann cried, shushing his mounted escort with a wave of his hand. "That is why we came to the hill country." He turned to Arwen with an easy smile. "Our hunt will have to wait, gentle lady. You need rest, and the attentions of a skilled healer. Fortunately my lakeside lodge is not far away."

"No!" Arwen's angry bark was loud, even to her own ears. A moment ago she had been near to fainting. Now, without even knowing how she found the strength, she grabbed her handsome young rescuer by the soft fur collar of his hunting jacket, pulling him close so they were face to face. "You and your men are taking me back up the hill," she snarled. "Right now!"


	7. Broken in Two

_Chapter Seven: Broken in Two_

"Halt, my friends! Let us take a few moments to rest before we push on to the very top of the hill." The clear, confident voice of Rann Golden-hair made Arwen frown as the men around her dropped their packs and relaxed. Frustration and resentment warred with unwilling gratitude to the handsome stranger.

"There's no need to rest now," she muttered, slumping against a big boulder by the side of the trail. "We're almost there!"

"Some of the men are tired," Rann replied, taking a deerskin from his pack and spreading it on the ground. "And thirsty."

"And they fear to see the horror of last night's wolf attack." Arwen sank down on the soft deerskin with a reluctant shrug, the slight movement causing instant pain to stab her wounded arm.

"They have seen the horror already," the young lord answered in a low voice, sitting down beside her. "It is in your eyes, lady. Your wounded arm proclaims your courage, but your eyes tell only of sadness and suffering. Who was the companion you lost?" Rann spoke softly, with annoying sympathy, as if he expected tears. But the tall, dark-haired daughter of Elrond did not intend to break down and cry. Just then one of his men came over bearing a wineskin, and a pair of fine carved drinking horns.

"The Lady Galadriel," Arwen replied, with a proud tilt to her head. "She was my grandmother. I will not rest until I know her fate." The tears that came to her eyes were like a stinging rebuke. She drank her wine quickly, ignoring the lump in her throat.

"That arm of yours needs more than just a crude bandage," Rann said, his slim golden brows knitting together in a worried frown.

"It's nothing," Arwen snapped, turning her face away. A tear fell.

"The arm is swollen, and it's bleeding again," Rann was inspecting her wound with worried blue eyes. "My old nurse will gladly care for you but . . . but what is this around your neck?"

"It's nothing!" Arwen's tears became temper, and she spoke without thinking. "The Golden Leaf was given to me in a dream. It gives me the power to see into the future. And to tell when soft words hide a greedy eye or a treacherous heart!"

Rann jerked back as though pierced by an arrow. For a moment there was something dangerous in his eyes. But then he bowed. "You have no reason to trust a stranger with your secrets," he said stiffly. "And I had no business to pry. If you will excuse me, Lady Arwen, I will see to the other men."

Arwen knew she was in the wrong. Her cheeks burned with shame. "Rann," she cried, in a rather weak and unsteady voice. But the young lord didn't even turn his head. Instead he went to speak to a small group of men some distance away. And the proud daughter of Elrond laid down her head and cried.

The halt for rest was meant to be brief. Yet when she yanked open her astonished blue eyes Arwen felt as if hours had flown. Rann was shaking her gently, his ticklish breath warm in her ear.

"Awake, fair lady, awake! We've found evidence of your friend."

"Galadriel?" Fresh hope caused Arwen's heart to swell as she rose from her resting place on the ground. She knew she had been out for hours, for the sun was setting. The wind was chilly, but someone had covered her with a warm cloak while she slept.

"We found signs of a struggle," Rann explained eagerly, "but no sign of your friend. Perhaps she is still nearby. Come, lady!"

Arwen hurried to keep up with the young lord, her heart soaring. She could have been wrong, after all. Galadriel might have triumphed over the wolves! As they struggled up the steep slope, she slipped on a loose stone and nearly fell. Rann caught her.

"Sorry I stuck my nose into your business, lady," he whispered. "It's a common trait among humans – we're all nosy!"

"Sometimes I let my temper run away with me," Arwen confided. "That's a human trait as well!" The two of them grinned at each other, but just then Arwen saw a dark shape on the path ahead.

"One of the wolves," Rann said grimly, prodding the beast with his toe. "At least we know he didn't hurt your friend."

"No, I suppose not." Arwen felt her high spirits vanish as she studied the dead animal. This wasn't the one who had bitten her. The cunning one who had somehow entered her mind, and enslaved her thoughts. This was just an ordinary gray wolf. She hated to see any living creature destroyed like this. But there was something peculiar about the way this animal had died. Galadriel had been fighting the beasts with sizzling bolts of fire, yet this wolf had no marks of burning. His throat had been torn out in a most sickening way. Had Galadriel done that? Had she?

"Lord Rann, over here!"

The two of them ran to the sound of the huntsman's voice, a breathless Arwen still clinging unawares to Rann's strong arm. She wanted to hug Galadriel, to tell her again and again how sorry she was for disobeying her, for abandoning her! But when they reached the clearing where the deadly struggle had taken place the golden-haired Lady of Light was nowhere to be found.

"Look at the fight she made," Rann's huntsman said approvingly. "Her thick wooden staff is broken right in two. Bet she got away clean, that one!" The other men present growled in agreement.

"Broken in two," Arwen repeated faintly. Rann and his men were skilled hunters, brave and knowledgeable of the beasts they slew. But they knew nothing of magic. In order for Galadriel's staff to be broken, she must have encountered dark magic far more powerful than her own. She must have . . . must have . . .

"Are you all right, my lady?" Rann asked anxiously.

"Yes, I'm quite well." Arwen felt a chilling certainty that her friend was dead. She knew now why the Golden Leaf had been sent to her. Some great evil had come to this wild land. She made a solemn vow to seek out the evil and destroy it. Then everything went black, and she fainted into the arms of Rann.


	8. A Royal Scamp

_Chapter Eight: A Royal Scamp_

When Arwen awoke, she felt as if she had merely dreamed of fighting off snarling wolves in the high mountains. She was lying face-down in a snug bed in a sunny chamber, as safe and warm as if she were back in her father's house in Rivendell. Rolling onto her back, the elvish maiden stretched and yawned, wondering lazily if she could manage to skip her daily lessons.

That was when the pain struck, jolting her back to reality. Arwen clutched her arm and stifled a cry of agony, the bite of the wolf burning into her like fire.

"Ah! You've gone and hurt yourself, haven't you, my lamb? You just lie back now, and let Nanny Rattlebones make it all better."

"Nanny Rattlebones?" Arwen would have smiled if she weren't in so much pain, and biting down so hard on her soft lower lip. This had to be the old nursemaid that Rann Golden-hair had told her of the day before. The handsome prince swore she could cure every ill. Arwen had pictured her being wrinkled and wise, like Snorra the dwarf. Instead Nanny Rattlebones was big and fat, with plump white hands and a round, cheerful face.

"There now, isn't that better?" The big woman asked, patting Arwen gently on the arm before rising from the narrow bed. "Wrapping the wound is good for now, but later I want to take you to bathe in the healing spring. That will build your strength, and help you to resist the fever in the blood."

"Fever? But I don't feel hot." Arwen gave a worried frown as she sat up straighter in the bed. The new wrapping on her arm felt tight, almost squeezing into her. Yet she felt much less pain.

"It's not that kind of fever." The hulking nursemaid laughed softly as she brought over a breakfast tray that had been warming over the fire. Yet her small, light brown eyes were full of concern. "You've been bitten by a wolf, my poor lamb, and it's serious. There are many who die of the bite, but even those who do not die are changed."

"Changed how?" Arwen felt very uneasy. The lead wolf had not only bitten her, he had looked into her eyes. Somehow her mind had joined with his, though only for a moment. But what if it happened again? What if he took control of her completely? "Will I . . will I turn _into_ a wolf?" she asked the prince's old nanny, needing to know but feeling like a silly little fool for asking.

"Goodness, no!" Nanny Rattlebones laughed, a deep husky laugh way down in her throat that got her big body jiggling all over. "We have to watch out for fits of delirium, that's all. Times when you're likely to see things, and imagine things. And there'll be chills and weakness too, right down to your bones. That's why we've got to build you up!" The friendly nursemaid gave Arwen's breakfast bowl a look. "You start in on that, now. It's just porridge, but I've added a few special herbs to soothe away your aches and pains. Later on I'll take you up to the healing waters."

"Thank you for taking such good care of me." Arwen actually blinked back a few tears as her hefty nurse left the room. She knew it was silly to want to bawl on her nursemaid's shoulder. She had to build up her strength. She had to hunt down that lead wolf, and she had to _avenge_ Galadriel. Her tears were useless!

Unfortunately, when she finally choked back her useless tears and picked up her spoon, Arwen found that she couldn't eat properly. The tight bandage on her arm made it hard to bend her elbow. The pain and stiffness made it seem like sheer torture. She tried switching to her other hand, but that was clumsy and awkward. The next thing Arwen knew, the long wooden spoon slipped from her fingers and hot porridge spilled down her gown!

"Good morning, fair and gentle Lady Arwen! Need a bib?"

"I don't need anything from you," Arwen growled. She hated being made to feel like a fool. Why was it that Rann always turned up when she was looking and feeling a complete mess? But then she blushed, remembering how he had rescued her the day before, tending to her wounds and even carrying her when she fainted. "I'm sorry, I haven't been feeling well. Please come in," she said, in a much softer voice.

"Glad to see you've got an appetite, anyway. But we need to get the porridge inside of you, instead of spreading it over you." Prince Rann Golden-hair sauntered into the room, looking as fresh and cheerful as the morning sun. Without any sort of shyness or awkwardness, he sat right down on the side of her bed, just as Nanny had done a few moments before. Rann was dressed in dark blue velvet trimmed with lace. His black boots were shining, and his face was glowing with cheerful good health.

"You look nice." Arwen felt her cheeks burn even hotter, realizing how her words must sound. As if she meant to compliment Rann on his looks. As if she were flirting with a boy she hardly knew!

"Yes, I'm slated to meet with the council later this morning." Rann made a funny little face to show how he looked forward to the meeting. "I dread these state affairs. Might I hide under your bed until it's over?" They both laughed as he lifted the plain wooden spoon. "No, I suppose not. Ah, well. Open up, now."

"Oh, I . . . I think I'll wait a bit." Arwen had no idea why she felt so shy. Rann obviously meant her no harm. A moment ago she had been laughing along with him, oddly unaware of her stained bed gown and her throbbing arm. He did have a way of making a person feel lighter at heart whenever she felt worried or sad.

Rann rolled his eyes. "Have you always been such a difficult child? Look, here comes the coach, climbing up the high hill. Open the gates, and let Arwen eat her fill."

"Mmm!" Arwen had to laugh at the sing-song way Rann chanted the words, making her feel as if she were a tiny babe in his care. Yet at the same time she felt respected and protected, cherished and pampered like a princess. She swallowed her plain porridge.

"There, that's more like it." Rann carried on feeding her, chatting away about this and that while Arwen ate her fill. "To tell you the truth, fair lady, I wish I could bring you to the council with me. Your own survival proves the wolves can be beaten. Your fearless fight against them is a lesson that all could learn from."

"You mean the people of Silver Lake are afraid of wolves? But you and your men are hunters! Why were you . . ."

"One more bite," Rann commanded, his gentle voice caressing and teasing while Arwen finished her meal. "There, it's always good to finish the morning porridge right down to the last drop. Isn't Nanny Rattlebones a good cook?"

"I think she's a wonderful cook!" Arwen's cheeks were glowing, and her eyes were shining. She felt much better after her meal, as if the porridge had restored her strength and made her ready for any adventure. "I see now why you think she can do anything, Rann. But why do they call her Nanny Rattlebones?"

The prince shrugged as he dropped the long wooden spoon into the empty bowl. "Because in the old days, the healers in these parts dug up the bones of the dead to make their spells. But the council and I are putting a stop to all that, though."

"Oh." Arwen shivered a little, wondering if Nanny herself had once been a witch. But surely not. Only the wolves were evil in these parts, and Nanny and Rann were both against them.

"Prince Rann, how can you be dawdling here when the council is waiting for you in the great hall this very minute?" Nanny Rattlebones marched into the room frowning, her arms full of heavy robes. "Run along, scamp. The lady needs time alone for her healing bath!"

Rann grinned, totally unabashed. "Nanny, I was just feeding Arwen her breakfast – you know, the way you fed me when I was a poor orphan! Surely there can be no harm in that?"

"What do you think, Lady Arwen?" Nanny asked, her brown eyes twinkling. "Could there be any harm in a royal scamp like Prince Rann?"

"All the harm in the world," Arwen replied, with a demure smile, lowering her long dark lashes. She felt very grown up for a moment, very feminine and desirable and also quite mysterious. But then she laughed, and her new friends joined right in.


End file.
